


The Run

by TicklishTimmy



Category: 28 Days Later (2002), 28 Weeks Later (2007), Black Summer (TV), The Walking Dead (TV), Z Nation (TV)
Genre: Apocalypse, End of the World, F/M, Horror, M/M, Multi, Timothee Chalamet - Freeform, Zombie Apocalypse, Zombies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:27:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25426129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TicklishTimmy/pseuds/TicklishTimmy
Summary: Timothée is in Lockdown, like the rest of New York City. After deciding to take a run to a nearby bagel shop for breakfast, he soon stumbles upon a Zombie Outbreak taking place in the heart of Manhattan...
Kudos: 2





	1. 'A Scream In New York'

NEW YORK CITY, APRIL 6TH, 9.38 AM

The morning sun shone through an open apartment window, a Spring breeze blowing a light, white curtain to the side. The breeze continued to gently blow into the large 5th floor apartment, lifting stray movie script papers off a vintage wooden desk littered with scribbled notes, a few half full coffee mugs and a re-charging MacBook.

The papers fell lightly to the floor, taken again by another gentle draft, sliding across the room where they rested by a giant, white bed. The bed was drenched in sheets and various pale blue pillows, creased due to the movement of the bed’s occupier in the night. One person, a 24 year old actor called Timothée.

His green eyes opened as soon as the scream ended.

It was the sort of scream that came from the very depths of the lungs - a gut wrenching scream filled with fear, disturbance and terror. It echoed through the neighbourhood, and despite sounding far away, it still resonated loudly - loud enough to wake someone from a very deep slumber.

Tim blinked.

He slowly sat up in bed, his slender, pale frame propped up by an arm he placed behind his back.

He faced the window, curls of deep, dark brown hair littering the front of his face.

The curtains blew again in the gentle breeze, the breeze eventually reaching his face. It was chilly, refreshing. He scrunched his nose, blinked a little more, and let himself wake up. His gaze fell upon the script pages that had made their way across the living room.

Another scream.

This time it felt like more of a struggled scream, a yell - whereas the first could’ve been a woman, this was definitely a man.

He frowned, but thought not too much of the screams. This was New York City - he’d seen and heard much weirder.

He reached over the left hand side of his bed, where his iPhone lay charging on the floor. He unlocked the screen with a swipe of his thumb and assessed all notifications, the light of the phone making his pale face whiter. He scrolled past notifications from friends and went straight to the ones that caught his eye.

Barry, 04.03 AM: Don’t worry about rehearsing the script, London play is definitely delayed.

Barry, 06.22 AM: Sending you the shots of Dune. Also need you to get an idea of when you’ll be free for Zoom meeting by Thursday. Stella said to keep the trousers!!! :)

Mom, 08.00 AM: Morning lazy bones, give me a call when can? xx

Instagram likes: 108,566,000

Tim’s apartment was huge. It was a recent purchase after his last pay check. It consisted of one large, open plan area containing all of the things Tim felt he needed in one place; A bed to sleep in, a small corner kitchen and a large corner sofa with a projector aimed towards a blank wall. The ceilings were high, the light flowing into the space, the area littered with fashion magazines, a suitcase, plants and some take out packaging.

He needed a tidy.

Tim kicked the bed sheets away from his body, a few pillows tumbling onto the floor in the process.

He stepped out of bed, scratching away an itch on his lower stomach.

He pulled up the loose, baggy Nike sweat pants that he’d slept in, and walked towards the open window to investigate the scream that had woken him up, but mainly to get a breath of fresh, New York air.

As he walked towards the window, he clumsily stepped onto the script papers that had blown across the apartment floor, a page attaching to the sole of his foot. He hopped towards the window, picking the page from his foot and taking it with him to his large apartment window.

The script was for a London play, 4,000 Miles. And thanks to Barry’s text, he now knew he needn’t worry about looking at this page for the time being, considering the play had been delayed due to London being in lockdown.

With the page in hand, he popped his head out of the apartment window, peering outside and onto the streets below him.

As to be expected, each street was empty. People were staying in their homes, under government direction, waiting for the virus to fade out.

An ambulance siren sounded far off in the distance, and a nearby neighbour had a Drake song playing out of their apartment window whilst they worked out, but besides that it was a pretty silent morning.

Steam rolled out of the side walk grates, some old leaves blew down the desolate streets.

There were no more screams whilst Tim continued to peer out of his window.

During his inspection, he had folded the single piece of paper into a paper aeroplane.

He examined his creation as he stood there in silence, using his fingers to straighten out the edges, making sure all folds were strong and neat. He then aimed the paper aeroplane out of the window, and with a quick pop of his elbow he threw the plane out.

He leaned onto the window edge, folding his slender, long arms onto the chipped wood. He placed his head on his hand, and with a soft sigh he watched the paper aeroplane ride across the breeze, where it flew through the open space between apartment buildings.

The breeze took the aeroplane all the way to the side walk. Tim had to squint to still see it clearly - but soon enough the breeze took the plane back into the air and around the corner of a closed gym building.

Tim’s attention was then taken to the sound of helicopters in the distance.

Soon enough, three military helicopters flew past in unison.

Tim turned and faced his messy bed. He looked across his apartment, his place of self isolation - he had been social distancing for the past three weeks, like the rest of the world. And just like every morning for the past three weeks, he had to consider what to do.

Bagels, he thought.

He clapped his hands together and swiftly walked towards his clothes rail, yanking an oversized grey Nike hoodie off of a copper wire hanger.

He threw it over his white t-shirt, his head popping out the other side. He shook his head, shaking hair out of his eyes and walked back over to his bed where he sat, perched on the edge.

He slipped off his sweat pants and rifled around a box underneath his bed, where he found his running gear - a pair of white high top Nike socks and a pair of black gym shorts.

All of that went on, his socks pulled up so high they reached just underneath his knees.

He stood, walking over to grab his running shoes from underneath his desk. He pulled those on too, taking a moment to kneel down where he tightly tied the laces. He headed over to his large, standing mirror, where he checked out his lazy presentation.

Lately he hadn’t taken much consideration to what he looked like. Heck, when at home, in his home city, he was Tim - he wore sweat pants often, mismatched socks frequently, his hair usually tasselled and unkept, bagels in hand, a juice in the other. If he got papped looking worse for wear, he didn’t really care - he would shrug it off with a smile. Besides, the press hadn’t been around that much over the past few weeks.

His hair had got long.

Dark curls hung over either side of his boney face. He had crust in the corners of his eyes, which he scratched away with little effort.

After another yawn, he rubbed his face and took his head phones off the corner of the mirror.

He then grabbed his bum bag. In went some keys and his iPhone.

He clipped the bum bag around his waist and slipped his hand inside to check for cash. He rifled through some dollar notes, assessing how much he had - enough for some bagels.

He left his wallet on the desk, but grabbed the face mask hanging off the edge of his chair, leaving his apartment with the door closing shut behind him.

Tim ran down the apartment steps and left the building.

Outside, he began to gently bounce on the spot just outside the apartment buildings main doors, placing the face mask around his jaw, the strap tucking into the back of his head tightly.

Some pigeons flew away in fright as he arrived, landing on the other side of the empty road.

The sun was bright this morning, the sky a clear blue. No clouds, just pure, beaming blue. He looked up, squinting with regret, thinking about his sunglasses tucked away inside his oversized denim jacket five floors up.

He contemplated which bagel shop to go to, deciding it would be the one furthest away, which meant he could run there. He was wearing the correct footwear, he fancied the exercise - it was a no brainer. And after some light running on the spot and some stretching of his arms, he began to slowly jog across the sidewalk, picking up his pace and gradually turning it into a run.

***

Tim had now been running for 15 minutes.

He was short of breath and had only stopped once to check his phone.

Fuck, he thought. I need to call back Mom.

She had sent a few texts since he’d got out of bed, something about reading the news, something about giving her a call. But due to being on the run, his focus hadn’t allowed him to fully assess all of this.

He paused, coming to a gradual stop besides an overflowing garbage can. The stench caused him to jog a few more yards away, where he opened his phone and attempted to call back his Mother.

No answer.

She’ll call back.

Using his thumb, he swiped to Spotify and found Greta’s playlist. This would be perfect for the run around the outside of Central Park.

Running at a time like this was a strange privilege. He rarely got noticed by people, as hardly anyone was about. The last time he went for a long run, he got noticed a fair bit and had been stopped by a group of girls who were keen to take selfies with the young and now pretty famous Oscar nominated actor.

He laughed at himself; the mere thought of what was happening to his life and career still putting a smile on his face - still an overwhelming dream come true - albeit slightly on hold for now

Another turn lead him to a surprise. An ambulance had been parked on the side walk, but the parking seemed rushed due to only one wheel being on the actual side walk itself.

The lights on the ambulance were rotating brightly, however no siren sounded.

Bing… Bing… Bing… Bing… Bi…

The engine was on, the ‘open door alert’ being the only sound coming from the ambulance. In fact, not only was the driver door open, but the back doors of the ambulance were open too.

Tim slowed his pace down, jogging to a slow walk where he then stopped to catch his breath.

The Spring breeze pushed a few curls away from his eyes.

He placed his hands on his knees and hunched over, taking in the air. He looked up at the ambulance and inside the vehicle. The bed unit seemed to have someone in it… Surely not.

Could it be pillows under the sheets, or medical kits? Where’s the driver?

Had someone from his neighbourhood died from the virus?

Tim felt a chill slide up his back. It was odd, but it was also none of his business.

He decided to move on and continue his run. He looked back over his shoulder, the ambulance still very much in the same position as he left it.

As Tim turned his attention forwards and ran into the distance, the body in the ambulance sat up.

***

It was around a minute away from the bagel shop that three more screams sounded around Tim.

With his head phones in, he heard nothing but Kanye West, and continued to run towards his breakfast. He even started breathlessly rapping along with the lyrics, jogging now instead of running.

Suddenly, from the side of the street, a Jeep drove full force into the side of a parked car, causing an almighty crash.

CRASH!

Others in the street, mainly younger people queuing for groceries or also exercising, jolted with shock at the crash, all turning their attention towards the incident.

Tim skidded to a stop, nearly falling over his own feet. He yanked the headphones from his head and let them dangle around his neck, a shocked “Jesus Christ!” coming from his open mouth.

He flinched, another car crash could be heard nearby, this time followed by the sound of sirens.

Tim turned his head in the direction of the crash, but couldn’t see anything.

It was then he saw something else.

Ahead, just outside the bagel shop, a group of normal looking people began running towards other groups of normal looking people. Or, from what Tim could see, the group were then separating out and running towards other individuals. Almost as if they were targeting them.

Tim stepped back slowly, his eyes remaining on the group that had just exploded out of the bagel shop.

Now everybody was screaming.

Suddenly, the main window of the bagel shop smashed outwards, with two people falling through it. They landed on the street, thousands of pieces of glass bouncing around them.

They both appeared to be fighting - or was the person on the floor fighting the other person off?

Tim couldn’t make sense of it, but his steps back continued, until his shoulders knocked against the bottom of a street lamp. This startled him, and caused him to look elsewhere.

A woman and her kid ran past him, at full speed.

Tim watched them, before turning his shocked expression to the chaos taking place outside the bagel shop. So many people being attacked by others - had a fight taken place?

There goes breakfast, He thought.

BOOM!

Tim’s shoulders jolted in fright as a loud explosion sounded off closely to wear he stood.

His entire body naturally turned to face where the explosion had come from. Even though it sounded nearby, it was actually several blocks down the street. It looked like a store had exploded, or a car parked on a side walk.

The flames flickered onto the road and black smoke stained the bright blue morning sky.

His eyes were wide open. His jaw had dropped. His shoulders were stiff, his body tense - he’d never seen an explosion in real life before.

Was this a terror attack?

What the fuck is going on?

A window smashed nearby. Tim felt like his attention was being pulled from left to right, with nowhere to look for longer than ten seconds.

The people at the bagel shop were now all multiplying in behaviour, the ones who were being attacked were now the ones attacking.

Tim couldn’t work out who was who… Some seemed fine minutes before, but then these were now the ones who had turned violent.

The violence seemed to be overtaking the normality. And now, some of the violent people were running towards him.

Aiming themselves, at him.

It was then that he decided to leave.

He turned around, and began to sprint in any clear direction. His heart pounding in his chest.

He turned his head briefly over his shoulder to see three individuals directly chasing him.

They were fast. They were angry, vicious… Determined.

Their mouths and hands were covered in blood.

His head spun forwards where he picked up his pace. He was now fully sprinting, running the fastest he had ever ran in his life.

As he bolted down the street, he noticed people in front of him also turning and running in the same direction. Others seemed un-phased, one woman filming the incident on her iPhone, stepping back in confusion as she did so.

For those who didn’t turn and run, he heard screams come from them, but behind him. They were being attacked.

Tim turned the corner and only had less than a second to acknowledge the speeding car driving directly towards him.

Tim clenched his fists, burrowed his upper body inwards and turned away, facing opposite to the car. He braced for impact. He heard the screeching of the cars tyres as the driver attempted to put their foot on the break.

CRASH!

The breath left his chest as the bonnet impacted his thighs, throwing his back onto the windscreen, which cracked under his weight. He then rolled.

He rolled backwards, over the roof of the car, falling off onto the boot where he was propelled across the street, his side impacting the side walk with an almighty thud.

He rolled a few times across the concrete, where he eventually came to a stop by a sidewalk bench. Dust and dirt clouded around him as he lay on his back.

He moaned, coughing, spluttering. Saliva hung from the corner of his lip.

There was a ringing in his ears, his vision felt slightly blurred. He lay on his back, staring at the blue sky, an intense pain in his hip burning into his conscious. He had no thoughts, no reactions, his body gradually accepting what had happened. His brain acknowledging different areas of pain on his body.

His thigh. His hip, the palms of his hands. His head.

As he lay there, he saw a large commercial plane flying thousands and thousands of feet in the sky. It flew slowly across the pane of blue, unaware of the chaos taking place below. He followed the plane, until it passed a skyscraper and disappeared from sight.

He had never been run over before in his life.

Get up.

He staggered to his feet, his knee grazed, a cut deep enough to cause blood to trickle down his leg. The palms of his hands were throbbing.

He then felt another force, this time on his back. It was a pair of hands.

The hands, large and strong, grabbed at Tim’s shoulders, clenching tightly at the material of his now dirt stained hoodie. The person used all their weight to pounce him. Tim landed back on the sidewalk, face first, the hot concrete rubbing roughly against his cheek.

The weight of the person was immense, their hands and fingers grabbing at Tim’s back. They were trying to pull him around so that he would face them.

“UGAHH!” Cried Tim. “GET THE FUCK OFFA ME!” He shouted, his voice full of confusion and desperation. His cries were muffled due to the face mask he’d been wearing since he left the apartment.

The force of the person had now successfully pulled Tim round so he was on his back, despite his efforts to fight back. The person was a woman.

Her eyes were a bright white, her face a shade of grey. She screamed a large, high pitched growl. Her mouth was covered in blood. She began to attack Tim.

Tim used his arms and hands to block her attempts to tear him apart.

He tired to grab at her wrists whilst they pummelled at his chest and face, winding him in the process. She was beyond angry - a hysterical, abnormal, monstrous rage that appeared in her bright, wide eyes.

Her blonde hair hung over her face, messy, tangled and blood stained. She wore pink, leopard print pyjamas. Her feet were bare.

She clawed at Tim, sharp fingers catching against his hoodie, pulling it away from his body, however it remained attached to him, working as a shield from her ripping at his stomach or chest.

She wanted to hurt him, to injure him. To take from him? In the panic, he was uncertain.

“WHAT DO YOU WANT!? TAKE ANYTHING, ANYTHING THAT YOU WANT!” Tim yelled, trying to reason with the woman as she straddled his waist, now leaning closer whilst she shouted loud, hysterical growls and rambles.

It was then she expelled a vomit of blood all over Tim’s face. She wretched up the load, coughing and spluttering the remaining gushes of deep red, thick liquid all over Tim’s chest. Tim’s eyes squeezed shut as he endured the exposure, the feeling of the hot liquid landing on his face.

Eyes still tightly shut, mouth closed behind the face mask, he naturally went into full defence mode. He started to violently kick his feet, using them to push himself and the woman upwards.

He eventually got one knee up to his stomach, using it to work the woman further down him. He then managed to get his foot against her stomach, where he pushed with a strained force. With all his strength he managed to kick the woman entirely off of him.

She fell backwards, landing on behind. Within a second she was already making efforts to get back at him.

Tim scrambled backwards, unable to stand. The screaming was now so loud, and from so many people, all around him.

His feet slid against the floor, the soles of his trainers scratching against the side walk. He was now attempting a confused, backwards shuffle that seemed to be getting him nowhere.

There were so many people running, being attacked, crying, sobbing, shouting, yelling.

The woman crawled quickly towards Tim and reached out to grab him. Tim kicked her away, unfortunately planting his ankle right into her grasp - and her grasp was extremely tight.

She pulled him across the concrete towards her, growling at him constantly.

Her other hand tried to grab at his other foot, but he pulled it out of her way. Her reach instead landed on his waist, her nails scratching at his flesh.

“UGAHHH GOD DAMNIT!” Winced Tim, spit forming in the corners of his mouth.

As she pulled him closer, her grabbing at his waist fell to his bum bag, where she gripped at the strap. The entire thing was working as a pulling device for the woman, a way to yank Tim closer to her snapping mouth.

Tim reached round to the back of the bum bag strap, his hand scrambling around the material, his fingers pinching at the buckle desperately. He felt them push into the buckle.

Click!

He was free, his waist and body fully released from the woman’s grasp.

Tim then kicked his free foot into her face as soon as he got close enough. He felt his heel impact her chin. He had hit her hard enough that he heard a crack.

The kick was so hard that it caused the woman to fly off her feet, where she stumbled back into some garbage with a crash, the bum bag still in her grasp.

“I’M SO SORRY!” Shouted Tim, shaking his hands at her in apology.

He scrambled back once again, noticing in the fight that he had lost his left shoe.

The cotton of his sock worked as a great piece of friction against the concrete, allowing him to press his foot against the sidewalk, gain momentum and then fully stand.

The woman seemed to find standing up in the garbage quite challenging. Tim used this moment to escape. He turned, sprinting away from her and down the crowded, hysterical street.

He constantly bumped into people who were running in sporadic directions to him, smashing into their shoulders as the panic ensued. Some ran into him from the left, some behind, some from the right.

He limped, due to having only one shoe on, tempted to take the other one off to make things easier, but not having the time to do so.

He was so out of breath, gasping for air and still in shock from being hit by the car.

Everything was happening so fast, so many noises, screams, distractions. Until he turned a corner and headed down a larger street, which still had people running down it but not as many as before.

The street had so many tree’s on either side, the light shining through the branches. It was a beautiful street, littered with terror.

It was then he realised he had lost his phone, his apartment keys. They were in the bum bag, with the woman, who was now running after someone else. That someone else was a small girl who was being brutally bitten.

He continued to run, stumbling over a person who had fallen over. A young guy, maybe in his early 30’s, who was coughing up blood onto the floor.

The man lifted his head up, Tim watched the mans eyes fade into a white shade, similar to the woman who attacked him earlier. He seemed to be having some sort of fit, his back arching into an unnatural shape.

Tim edged away, picking up his pace, continuing to run.

Due to the city being in lockdown, the streets were littered with parked cars.

One caught Tim’s eye as he sprinted down the road - this silver Ford looked like it had started to pull away from the side walk, however it had come to a stop.

The driver door was open.

As Tim ran past he shot a look into the drivers seat, which was empty. He stopped in his tracks, his heart pounding through his chest, the need to vomit being more present than ever.

He looked down the street. More people were being attacked, the attacked were becoming the attackers.

They were turning their attention towards him. Was he the only person on this street not turning into a raging insane person? They were so fast. They were coming.

He thew himself into the car and slammed the door shut.

Jesus… Jesus… Fuck…

Completely out of breath, he caught something in his throat and started to cough. As he coughed, he scrambled around the car doors, reaching across to lock them.

Passenger door, locked.

Driver door, locked. He clicked the button for child lock, and lay his head on the back of the drivers seat.

He remained still, staring forwards as he watched those chasing him become immediately distracted by whoever else was running away. Which seemed to be a lot of people. The streets were once desolate, and now they were almost full. People had come out of their apartments to hear the chaos, curious as to what was happening outside. And then they were falling victim to the very chaos taking place.

The deafening sound of chaos had now been slightly muted, muffled by the locked car doors.

He sat there, the pace of his breathing slowly returning to a pace he could actually handle. He snatched the face mask off and threw it to the side, where it landed limply on the passenger seat.

His face was drenched in blood, a thick deep red covered it entirely. The only part of his face that didn’t have blood on it was a triangular shape around his mouth, which had been hidden by the face mask.

He checked the palms of his hands. He must’ve landed on them after he fell off the car. He remembers hearing the slap sound as his hands hit the side walk. His hands were trembling.

He held his jaw, wincing as he touched it. There was blood on his face, on his hoodie.

Another scream, this time a man. A smash of a window, and then the sound of growling. Tim turned to look out of the car window, his sight falling onto an incident taking place inside a grocery store.

A grocery store owner had another man on top of him. The man was eating at his face, shaking his head violently into the mans flesh.

He bit at his mouth, his nose, he tore into his eyes. Blood spluttered upwards. The grocery store owner lay there, unresponsive.

Tim watched, his left hand slowly cupping his mouth in disbelief. His heart pounding. What the…

The man on top hopped to his feet, almost like an animal. He twisted his head in several directions, his neck distorted, veins bulging around his throat. A piece of flesh hung from his mouth.

Some kids ran past the grocery store, all terrified and panicked. One of them had a leg injury. Tim’s hand grabbed the car door handle. No…

The man stood fully as soon as he saw the children, and ran after them. They ran out of sight, Tim’s hand clenching onto the handle, the urge to go out and stop that from happening, but the human fear in him pulling him back to stay in the car.

He winced, his hands covering his ears as he heard two loud gun shots. He twisted his neck from side to side, trying to see where the gunfire was coming from.

He looked back into the grocery store. The grocery store owner, who was once covered in blood, his face half eaten off, was now standing.

Tim’s body began to shake. His shoulders shifting, his knee bouncing with anxiety. He watched the grocery store owner stand still, blinking, looking down at his hands. His head twitched, his wrist flicked. He snarled.

He snapped his head to the side, facing Tim, his eyes staring directly back at his.

Tim gasped.

The grocery store owner sprinted across the street, his torn, bloody face directly aimed towards the car Tim sat in.

Tim scrambled back over the seat, over the gear stick which caught onto the pocket of his shorts. He got stuck for a second, freeing himself to kick his feet against the locked door, helping himself push back. His back pressed against the passenger door as he watched the grocery store owner clench his fists and throw his hands forward towards the window.

The impact was huge, the entire window smashing inwards, shards of glass covering Tim’s legs and lap. Tim reactively covered his face as the glass broke.

The grocery store owner, screaming repeatedly at the top of his lungs, his bloody face now more visible than ever, began to crawl viciously into the car, his teeth snapping, his head distorted, neck so stretched out that it looked broken. His eyes were a milky white.

No, No… No, please God…

The grocery store owner grabbed Tim’s left ankle and pulled his leg towards his mouth. Tim kicked and kicked, grunting and groaning as he did so, spit hanging out the corner of his mouth, his body breaking a sweat during the struggle.

This thing was strong. So strong.

The grocery store owner was now more or less on top of Tim, with half of his body inside the car.

The edges of the car window cut into the grocery story owners waist and stomach, but it didn’t stop him. They cut at his flesh, but there would be no reaction - just the desperate and violent attempt to reach Tim, where he currently had his ankle.

Another strong pull, this time taking Tim full towards the creature. This time, his flesh in reachable distance.

The creature opened his mouth wide, and went to bite into the flesh of Tim’s left leg.

CRASH!

A lorry crashed into the corner of the car Tim and the creature wrestled in - the impact was so huge that it took the car off the front wheels and into the air.

Windows smashed, the inside of the car entirely coated with glass.

The second half of the grocery store owner became ripped away in a gruesome explosion of blood.

His waist and legs were taken with the lorry, smeared across the street.

The lorry continued to drive into other cars, into people, the driver being attacked by another desperate monstrosity that tore him apart in the drivers seat.

Tim was also torn from the monsters grip. His body flung towards the back of the car where he landed on the seating. The car’s now destroyed bonnet faced the sky for a few seconds before gravity caused it to fall back on itself.

It landed on it’s roof, on the sidewalk, with a crash.

This caused Tim to fall onto the ceiling of the car. Shards of glass sprinkled down around him.

It was then everything went black.


	2. 'The Soldier'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Military arrive in New York to help contain The Outbreak. Tim is currently fighting for his life, and when everything looks like it might come to an end, A Soldier comes to the rescue...

THE HUDSON RIVER, 9.28 AM

Several large, dark green coloured military speed boats pierced the waters of the The Hudson River, all heading straight to Manhattan. They bounced over the gentle waves, landing effortlessly on the surface of the river, bee-lining straight towards the city. 

Through a small glass, water drenched circular window, sat One of twelve soldiers inside the steel covered speed boat. 

His eyes were closed.

Once he had caught his breath, he slowly opened this eyes and looked across at the rest of the brigade. The fear was visible in everyone - the usual banter that electrified the group had been replaced with pure, unfathomable terror.

He was controlling the urge to be violently sick all over himself and the boat floor. He was drenched in sweat, the sides of his head feeling tight with dizziness. He gulped, licking his lips behind his thick, plastic PPE face mask.

He could taste the war paint on his face. The grey and beige camouflage smudges, smeared across his cheeks, nose, chin and forehead. 

This was it. The moment he had been dreading for the past 24 hours. 

A moment that felt like the start of a horror movie, a part of his life he knew he’d face, but never like this. He thought he’d go to war. To fight people. Humans.

But the briefing suggested otherwise. And now, he sat here with twelve others just like him, who were unaware of what to really expect, untrained on how to really deal with what everyone were now calling … ’Zombies’.

It won’t be like the films, he thought. It can’t be.

It’s just a virus.

He focused on the dark, metallic ceiling of the military speed boat. Dry, protected, steel. He wanted this journey to end, whilst at the same time he wanted it to last forever.

The sun from outside flickered through the tiny boat holes in the walls of the speed boat, all soldiers huddled into the small area, gripping their machine guns tightly with glove covered hands. 

The Soldier adjusted his helmet. He rolled his shoulders within his thick, heavy, camouflage patterned uniform. He adjusted the straps to his loaded rucksack. He’d of tightened the laces to his boots if he hadn’t of done so five times in the last 15 minutes.

The speed boat he sat on was the first to arrive at the harbour. Then several others pulled up at either side of each military boat - water splashing at each side of the armoured transport vehicle. 

Rays of thick sunshine suddenly burst into the small, inside area of the boat. All of the soldiers turned their attention to the large doorway which had been unhinged, now falling onto the harbour outside where it landed with a thud. Everyone began to unbuckle themselves from the seating they were once attached to. They stood and began to head towards the door that now worked as a walkway for the soldiers.

A walkway to death.

The sound of fighter jets pierced the sky. It was loud, so they must’ve been low. 

Gunfire could be heard.

The Soldier twisted his head from left to right, trying to locate where the shooting had come from. Was it happening already? This fast?

As the soldiers left the wood of the harbour, the thudding of their boots became replaced by scratching and crunching of tarmac. They walked fast, then they started to jog, and then they were running slowly. 

The morning shone through the streets.

He could no longer swallow. He was now the most nervous he had ever been in his entire life. He constantly felt like he was about to pass out. 

An explosion sounded off nearby. His shoulders jolted. 

“SPREAD OUT, SPREAD OUT!” Orders we being shouted, from different areas of the street. The feeling of impending chaos had started to creep in. 

The Soldier followed Zoe, a fellow soldier in the brigade who shared the same concerns as he when they were told what this day would entail. She had made it clear to him that they should stick together. They began to head down a main street. As they ran, smaller buildings got larger. They turned into apartment buildings, and then sky scrapers.

A burning tyre rolled down the street, flames licking the black outside of it’s circular frame. The soldiers acknowledged it, but continued to run towards the oncoming chaos. The tyre rolled past.

It was then The Soldier could hear growling. Vicious, animalistic growling. 

He could see people in the distance, running at other people, jumping on them, tearing them apart with their own teeth. 

Steam rolled out of the street grates. Parked cars, covered in dust, looked silent and untouched. This city had been in lockdown for 3 weeks now. 

The remains of a previous life.

A dozen of pigeons broke into flight around the soldiers. Their ability to avoid the oncoming chaos something to be envious of.

And with that, it began.

***

BROOKLYN, 10.15 AM

Alice closed her apartment door behind her, wiping some sweat from her forehead. She had successfully completed a 5k morning run, and now she needed water.

She headed breathlessly towards her kitchen, removing her head phones and placing her iPhone on top of the microwave. She grabbed a glass from the cupboard and reached over to the sink, where she twisted the tap to cold. 

As she let the water run, she reached for her phone again, where she began to furiously type out messages to her housemate.

Alice, 10.18: OMG.

Alice, 10.18: So many ambulances outside.

Alice, 10.19: And the queue for the grocery store was soooo long, so we’ll have to wait a few hours to get stuff for bolognese I think.

Alice put her phone back down, filling up her glass of water. She knew her housemate wasn’t well, showing some sign of symptoms of the virus earlier in the week, so he might not want bolognese anyway. His appetite had decreased over the past 2 days. 

As she glugged her glass of water down, the fact she hadn’t heard from him since yesterday afternoon started to concern her. He had told her he would be going to bed because he felt unwell and tired, worse than he did a few days before.

Surely he’d be hungry by now?

Alice took her phone and checked to see if he’d read the messages. He was normally awake far earlier than 10am. She headed upstairs.

Alice approached her housemates bedroom, and knocked gently on the closed door. There was no response. She turned away and went back into her bedroom, where she placed her phone on charge.

She grabbed a bight yellow sweater and through it on.

She tied her hair in a pony tail and went back to her housemates door, where she knocked again.

“Mike… Are you okay…?” She asked into the door.

No reply.

She turned the door handle gently, and opened the door slowly inwards. The room smelt of vomit.

As the door opened, Alice turned to find Mike standing silently beside his bed. His back was facing her.

“Mike. Are you alright?” She asked, about to see if he still fancied bolognese for lunch.

He turned to face her, and that is when Alice let out the loudest scream of her life.

***

Timothée slowly opened his eyes, blinking away a screen of dust.

There was no sound. Just a faint ringing.

Everything was to the side. Tim’s gaze focused on the street, the bloody tarmac of the road. People’s feet running, in all different directions. Some were running faster than others. Debris littered the street. 

His view was framed by the back side car passenger window, the edges of the window decorated with sharp, broken glass. 

Tim was on his back, his head to the side. He had been thrown around the inside of the car like a rag doll, after it had been hit by a driver-less truck. The car had fully toppled over and was now upside down, a wreckage in the street.

His body had landed on the ceiling, where the force had knocked him out.

I’m not dead, he reminded himself.

He coughed, the air coming out of his lungs, catching a dry, dehydrated throat. After another splutter, his hearing began to return.

Screaming. Gunfire. The sound of fighter jets flying over head.

And then, the rabid, familiar snarls and snapping of the creature that had been attacking him moments ago.

Tim’s eyes slowly peered over grazed knees, where he saw the grocery story owner, still half inside the car, reaching out to him with desperate, strained arms.

The driver and front passenger seat separated he and the monster, so Tim was safely out of reach.

His eyes fell onto the grocery store owners waist, which was drenched in blood. Everything below his waist was missing. The grocery store owner’s stomach, spleen, liver and kidneys hung out of his body in a bloody, gruesome mess. 

Yet he was still alive. 

Suddenly, everything came back into focus as the gruesome sight bought Tim back to reality. His sight, his hearing, his taste, his smell returned all at once.

Tim started to look around quickly, his heart racing, eyes wide open. Dark curls of hair flooded the front of his blood covered face.

He was missing a shoe. He remembered this now. 

His stomach sunk when he remembered he had no bum bag. No phone. No keys. 

His brain was waking up, reminding him of everything. Acknowledging areas of his body that were in pain, areas that needed attention. Things during this time that were a problem. 

He began to scramble around, glass falling from his shoulders and stomach as he rolled to the side. He peered his head out of the car window, assessing the chaos outside. All the while, trying to ignore the snarls and screams of the creature just a metre or so away from him.

Did he go outside?

Of course, you fuck. 

Go the fuck outside, run somewhere. Go to Mom’s. See if Libby is in town. Run to hers.

Do something!

What if he got caught? What if another one of these things got a hold of him again?

There were now so many. It was beginning to be hard to tell who was a murdering monster and who wasn’t.

Jesus, all of the city must be out.

More gun fire, this time louder, stronger. Intended.

Tim’s attention was taken to the left, where he saw a military soldier exit an apartment via the front entrance. He was carrying a small child.

Tim’s jaw dropped. The army?

The relief Tim felt was uncontrollable. A sign of hope. A sign of rescue.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Tim automatically covered his hands with his ears, bringing his knees into his stomach. 

He looked up, his eyes falling on three soldiers each firing their weapons at the creatures that chased them. 

Bullets tore through the monsters shoulders, stomachs and waist. However, it only knocked them back momentarily. For a millisecond, at least. 

And then they were back, running just as fast as they had been. One creature, a middle aged woman in an apron, jumped a few metres ahead, landing on one of the soldiers. It’s weight took the man to the floor, his arms flaying backwards, where he accidentally shot his fire arm into the air.

The woman immediately tore into the mans face, biting through his flesh and bone, ripping apart the skin that held together his nose and mouth. 

Tim squeezed his eyes shut.

You either stay here and die, or you go out and try to find help. 

Tim pulled himself together and began to make his way out of the vehicle. He rolled over and crawled out of the car, wincing as the shards of glass around the frame of the smashed window sliced and cut into parts of his waist and stomach, despite the thickness of his oversized grey hoodie.

He was now on the street. 

Tim stood there, eyes darting in all directions to assess where to go. 

He turned to find a man standing on the sidewalk, on the other side of the car. His eyes were a milky white. He was dressed in a suit, his presentation smart, besides the fact that half of his body was covered in blood, the suit material of his right arm ripped, pieces of flesh torn away from the muscle of his bicep. He had been bitten, eaten at for a brief period of time.

He had locked eyes with Tim and began to approach him.

Tim turned and darted away, the grocery store owner snarling and shouting, trying to shift himself round to grab at Tim, obviously unable to run due to his legs being smeared across the tarmac of the road.

Tim sprinted down the street, zig zagging between other people, people he thought were fine but were not. People he thought were not fine, but were actually normal. 

He passed car wreckages, fires, knocked over garbage cans.

He jumped over bodies. 

He passed soldiers, soldiers that were firing at these people-turned-creatures. He could see some were trying to fire at the man chasing him.

He could smell burning, smoke, constantly.

He turned his head over his shoulder, the man in the tie still sprinting after him, blood hanging from his jaw. The soldiers must’ve missed.

Tim wanted to be up. He wanted to be high up in his apartment. High up on a roof top, or on the Empire State Building. In a plane. Far away from here.

He began to look for options. Ways into safe places that would lead upward. He passed an alley way, noticing a fire exit system attached to a wall that had nothing but silence around it. He darted towards it. The man in the tie followed.

Tim sprinted down the alley, hopping on one leg for a moment as he took the time to remove his other shoe. He did this for two reasons; One was because, running with one shoe on, at the speed he was running, was starting to slow him down due to the different pace in steps. Now, he was evenly positioned.

And the second reason was so he could throw the shoe at the creature chasing him. 

He launched the Nike Runner at the creatures face. It hit him square in the jaw,

The creature flinched whilst running, but other than that, the shoe did no harm.

“DAMNIT.” Tim hissed.

He ran to the ladder, the bottom of it starting around 5 feet in the air. He would need to jump up and then climb. The ladder would lead to the first level of the fire escape, where the rest of the way up would be by metal stairs. 

Tim readied himself under the ladder, crouching momentarily before he jumped up, his hands successfully grabbing the lower rung of the ladder.

The man in the tie was quickly approaching.

With all of his might, Tim pulled himself up. He began to climb.

His body was drenched in sweat. He had regretted the decision to remove both shoes instantly, the rungs of the ladder sharp against the bottoms of his socked feet.

Still, he climbed. The ladder lead to the first level of the fire escape staircase. The entire thing was well secured to the outside of this older, brick wall apartment. And the apartment itself must be at least 5 stories high.

His head poked through the hole of the first level. He immediately connected sight with a woman, a Mother, behind her apartment window, which was just metres away from him.

“HELLO! PLEASE, PLEASE HELP!” Cried Tim. 

The woman shut the window and hooked the latch over the lock. She slowly stepped back, frightened, taking her two daughters inside the apartment, now out of sight.

The man in the tie sprinted towards the ladder where he then threw himself into the air, defying gravity. He landed on Tim’s legs, against the ladder. 

The ladder shook violently.

Tim held onto the runs tightly, resisting any fall.

The creature, without proper grip, fell down Tim’s legs, it’s hands scrambling for something to clutch as they both wobbled around on the ladder. 

Both of the mans hands gripped tightly onto both of Tim’s ankles. 

The creatures weight caused Tim’s body to stretch out. Tim still had a strong hold on the ladder rung. He winced, feeling his muscles pull. His stomach strain. He had a 15 stone man hanging off of him, and he could feel it more than anything. He felt like he would be pulled in half. 

Tim now hung from the top rung of the ladder, his arms stretched out far above him, his fingers wrapped tightly around the metal.

The creature had both of Tim’s ankles firmly in his grip, kicking and screaming in angst as it tried to reach up to grab, scratch or bite any part of Tim.

Tim wasn’t going to let go. He was going to get out of this.

He gritted his teeth, trying to pull up onto the ladder. He couldn’t even kick his legs, they were being pulled down so tightly by the weight of the creature.

He looked down, under his armpit. Sweat fell from his forehead, the droplets landing on the face of the creature. 

The man in the tie snarled, snapped, hissed, hysterically kicking it’s free legs in the air. It pulled itself upwards, it’s jaw widening, it’s mouth now aiming for Tim’s left foot.

And with that, it took a bite.

***

MANHATTAN, 11.30 AM

New York was now a war zone; soldiers littered the streets, people turned into abnormal, monstrous versions of themselves, gunfire sounded frequently, uncontrolled explosions sounded throughout the city. 

Glass smashed, cars collided. People ran.

The army had fully occupied the city, from all areas. They were landing on rooftops via helicopter, entering harbours via military speedboat.

The Soldier fell onto his back, his rifle leaving his grip and landing on the street with a clank. Three of the creatures were now on top of him.

All three of the creatures attacked at him, at once. Their strong fists punching and grabbing at him, their mouths trying to tear apart at his flesh.

They were a teenager, a 20 year old man, a coffee shop barrister.

His well armoured uniform worked as a shield for now, however the material was tearing at the seams, all whilst he tried his hardest to kick and push the creatures off of him.

He blocked them off with one arm, his free arm trying to reach the stranded rifle. 

One of the creatures knocked off his helmet. His PPE mask was coming loose.

Suddenly, their body’s exploded with bullets as gunfire tore them apart, pieces of flesh and blood spluttering onto The Soldiers face, pieces of muscle and clumps of clothing landing on the street around him.

They continued to attack, until they were completely stopped by bullets to the head. This is when their bodies slumped, their body weight falling onto The Soldier.

He moaned, coughing, spluttering. He rolled them off of him, where he gradually got to his feet.

He looked up, past the chaos, to Zoe. She lowered her weapon after shooting down the creatures and nodded her head, acknowledging him. 

He nodded in return. 

She’s always got my back.

Their acknowledgment lasted a few seconds, before Zoe turned towards the front of a fast moving, fire drenched yellow school bus.

The bus drove into her at 60 mph, taking her entirely underneath the bus. It continued to drive driverless, the flames that engulfed it flickering rapidly, a billow of black smoke following it’s haphazard trail.

CRUNCH

The remains of her body were smeared across the road like strawberry jam.

The Soldier covered his face with his hands. They then dropped down to his side, where he let out a visceral scream. The deep, assertive denial came from the very depths of his throat, his lungs.

“No.” He whispered.

Shock had taken over his body since he stepped off that boat. It had gotten worse the further they got inside the city.

There’s nothing we can do.

He started to step back, among the chaos.

He looked up; the helicopters that had landed on apartment and skyscraper rooftops were starting to leave. He watched as one took off from a medium height apartment. People were falling from them. They were crowding on, the space inside the helicopter unable to contain them, the panic inside pushing them out. Some landed back on the rooftop, others dangled from the rungs of the helicopter, gravity taking a hold of them once the helicopter was mid-flight. They fell to the street, obviously not surviving the fall.

A helicopter had landed on a nearby apartment rooftop, where the pilot lit a flare. This flare signalled to soldiers like him that they were ready to go with any survivors.

He would be in that helicopter within minutes, if he ran fast enough.

The Soldier turned, and made a choice.

He made the choice to run.

To run away, from Zoe’s body smeared across the floor. From the monsters attacking people, ripping apart their throats, their eyes, their stomachs.

To run away from the friends he had lost. The amount of people he had seen die in the last 20 minutes.

To run away from the gunfire, the explosions. 

To run away from death.

A couple of people ran towards him, terrified, covered in blood. “PLEASE, HELP US, WHERE DO WE GO, CAN WE GO WITH YOU? PLEASE.”

He stared at them blankly. He blinked. He didn’t respond.

They grabbed at him, shaking him, pleading for help.

He said nothing, his jaw hanging open.

The people ran away, seeking help elsewhere. 

The Solider walked slowly to his rifle. He picked it up. 

He began to run across the street, hopping over bodies. Other soldier’s voices came through the walkie talkie that was attached to his back pack. He recognised them, but he ignored them. 

A man in a t-shirt and shorts, vicious and rabid, began to approach him with a monstrous shriek. The Soldier aimed his rifle at his head, and popped a bullet through his skull. 

The creature fell to the floor, sliding across the sidewalk. 

He shortly arrived to the apartment buildings main entrance, the sound of the helicopter blades spinning 5 stories above him. 

He turned his direction to the lobby, successfully gaining a clean sprint to the glass doors, which he nudged open as if he were entering them at any normal day. He slipped inwards, the doors slowly sliding shut with a gentle clunk. 

For a moment, there was a muffled silence. His breathing was louder than the events taking place outside. This apartment building felt safe, almost empty.

With gentle steps, he began to jog towards the stair well. He ignored the elevators, which were still automatically in operation. He jumped onto the first set of stairs and began to climb them. 

It was on the second flight of stairs that he heard a set of doors burst open. He stopped, his head peering over the railing to the floor below. At least ten infected had caught sound of his presence, and all at once were aiming straight towards him. They clambered quickly up the stairs, at full speed, animalistic noises screeching from their blood filled lungs.

He used his leg muscles to push harder than he had ever pushed before, climbing three stairs at a time, getting higher and higher up the apartment building. 

Floor 2, done.

Floor 3…

With panic now being his full mindset, he took floor 3’s exit, kicking through a set of doors that lead to the third floors corridor of apartments. 

He bolted down the corridor. It wasn’t a long corridor, nor was it wide. The apartment was a small building in width. He had made the mistake of not thinking clearly… Thinking he had space… Thinking he had options. He had no where to go, besides out the front window to a drop three floors down to a chaos filled street. Or, into the apartments.

He began to kick at apartment doors, his fist thumping at them, he began to beg the occupiers to let him in. He could hear the monsters getting closer.

He fired his rifle at the doors, aiming to where he assumed handles were. Apartment 35 splintered ajar, and The Soldier kicked his way in. 

The door burst open inwards in an explosion of dust and broken wood. The door chain snapped loose and fell to the floor.

Human screams sounded from inside.

The Soldier threw himself inside the apartment, turned and attempted to shut the door. The last thing he saw outside would be the creatures running directly towards him. They were at the end of the corridor, around ten seconds away.

The door wouldn’t lock - the handle and lock system destroyed by several bullets from his rifle. He turned his attention to the inside of the apartment.

A single Mother, African American, around 30 years old, held onto two little girls, both aged around 5 or 6. They were hiding under their dining table, which was the size of an average 2-seater table in Starbucks.

This was a small apartment. There was nowhere to go. The kitchen and living space were all in the same area. There must’ve been one other bathroom, two other bedrooms, maximum.

A few steps took him to a two-sweater couch, which he grabbed and then dragged towards the door. He used this to block it. The creatures were now arriving at the door, their arms pushing forcefully through the small gap between the broken door and the door frame. The couch was already starting to budge.

The family continued to scream. Once safe, now terrified for their lives.

The Soldier, in a momentarily safe space for now, still needed to be up. He ran to the apartment window, which shone sunlight into the living room full of terror. The window looked out onto an alley way. A fire escape was attached to the outside wall, and went straight up to the roof. He ran past the hysterical family and popped the window latch off the hook, where he slid it open.

He climbed out.

He turned, and pulled the window down to a sudden close. He turned his head to the alley way.

He was fully aware that the creatures had now made their way into the apartment living room, they were now entirely distracted by the family they could feast on. The family who were now crying, screaming, their muffled yells fading out over the sound of tearing, ripping and crunching.

Before The Soldier could run up, a muffled moan from below distracted him.

A young guy, in his early twenties, hung from a ladder, one of the infected hanging off of his ankles. The boy looked up at The Soldier, their eyes connecting for a few seconds.

“Please, help me…” the boy said, with a hoarse desperation to his plea.

The Soldier turned away and began to run up the fire exit steps.

***

Tim watched The Soldier run up the steps, his heart sinking. “PLEASE!” He cried, his hands throbbing with pain at how tightly he had been holding onto the rungs of the ladder, his stomach stretching out from the weight of the thing holding onto him. He was worried, worried the thing below would start eating his feet, his legs, his upper body. It had already started to chew, tearing vicious teeth at Tim’s left sock. 

The Soldier stopped, mid way up the fire exit steps. 

“Damnit.” The Soldier hissed, and then turned around and headed back down the steps, where he dropped to his knees, reaching over the ladders entrance within the first level. He grabbed Tim’s wrists and began to lift him up.

Tim used his feet to press against the runs of the ladder, giving him enough leverage to start kicking madly. The creature, still attempting to hold onto Tim’s ankles, began to loose his grip. His mouth was biting at Tim’s foot.

Tim kicked the thing in the face, watching it loose it’s grip entirely, where it fell down to the alley floor.

The Soldier fully lifted Tim onto the lower level of the fire escape. 

Without further communication, The Soldier began to run up the fire escape stairs. Tim followed.

They both climbed the stair well, Tim having to push himself to keep up with the speed of The Soldier. The sound of helicopter blades became soundly loud, and then began to fade. As they reached the top of the apartment, the helicopter that had once landed their began to take off.

“Goddamnit!” The Soldier yelled, running towards the now in-flight helicopter, which had a pilot and maybe one or two other soldiers in it - there were only three survivors on board. The helicopter had so much space still in it. 

Tim reached the top of the apartment, now standing fully on the large, flat open space. He watched the helicopter fly away, shielding his eyes momentarily from the dust and air that the take off had created.

The Soldier removed his backpack and rifle, dropping it beside Tim, who had sat down on a small, rusty ventilation grate.

“T… Thank you… Thanks, man.” Tim managed to get his appreciation out over stifled breathing, however The Soldier said nothing. Instead, The Soldier turned and walked towards the other side of the rooftop, where he began to assess something happening on the street below. From Tim’s point of view, The Soldier looked distant but in control - planning. However, Tim was fully unaware that whilst The Soldier was spotting a military pick up vehicle below, he was also containing a panic attack.

Tim coughed into his fist. He lifted his left foot onto his knee, removing his sock. He checked for bite marks.

Nothing.

He had seen enough zombie movies to know if you were bitten, that was it. The sock must’ve worked as a barrier between the creatures teeth and the flesh of Tim’s foot.

“”

Tim looked over to The Soldier’s backpack, where a walkie talkie noised the attempt to dip in and out of signal.

“ …as been compromised … I repeat, has been compromised… Do not attempt to ”

He pulled his sock back on, as soon as The Soldier returned. The Solider picked up his backpack, where he promptly switched the walkie talkie off.

“You alright?” Asked The Solider.

“Yeah,” replied Tim, through heavy breath.

“What’s your name?”

“Timothée… Tim,” he said this with a slight shrug.

The Soldier looked down at Tim’s feet. “Those things take your shoes too?”

Tim forced a laugh, which turned into a serious swallow, an awkward flush coming over him. “Long story,” he explained. 

The Soldier nodded. “Stick with me.” The Soldier reached his hand out to Tim once again. 

Tim grabbed it, The Soldier lifting him up to his feet.

The Soldier began to jog to the other side of the apartment roof. Tim followed, careful not to tread on any shards of glass or rubble that lay scattered across the large, square space. The sun was so bright, the sky so blue. Tim could feel the heat on his shoulders. There was no shade, just a bright, clear roof top concrete for them to jog over.

The Soldier peered over the side of the apartment building. 

He grabbed Tim’s shoulder, and pointed to the street below.

A large , dark grey military bus the size of a large coach had been parked facing inwards, against a wire fence.

The area was tucked away from any chaos, a street hidden inside a street, behind an alley. A space used for rubbish, the back areas to apartments and restaurants where people would dump garbage and trash. 

The back doors of the bus were open, with a female soldier standing on guard. She was ushering survivors inside the truck. 

Tim saw four individuals get into safety; an elderly Chinese man, a 20 something girl in a bright yellow sweater, and a middle aged woman and her teenage son.

There were no doubt more people inside the truck already. 

Without saying anything, The Solider headed towards another fire escape. Tim followed, and they both started to head down to the street below.

Tim desperately wanted to call his Mom, his friends. He wanted to go back to his apartment. He wanted to check if people he knew were safe. But it became clear that any kind of communication right now would be between him and this stranger, The Soldier. 

The feeling of loss and confusion had implanted itself deep within his chest since he woke up in the car wreckage. And since then, additional feelings had piled on top. He felt a longing to know, to know when or how he’d see his friends and family again. On top of the mental elements, there were the physical ones too. He was hungry, thirsty, bruised, cut, dirty, exhausted. He felt weak.

They both climbed down the last part of the fire escape, which was a rusty ladder that lead to the floor. They then jogged to the large military bus.

The Soldier stopped just before the doors and ushered Tim inside, where he climbed into a silent interior. The only noise inside the bus was the gentle hum of air conditioning and some trembling sobs from the middle aged Mother, who held onto her terrified teenage son. 

The inside of the bus was similar to the kind of tour buses Tim had been on before, when he had been given VIP passes to spend time with bands, or if he’d been on a press tour for a movie. 

The bus was long, with comfortable sofa-style seating on either side. The floor was carpet, the windows blacked out from the outside, but offering a clear view of the street from the inside. There was a kitchen area, a large mirror and a narrow staircase leading upwards, which would probably take you to a sleeping area.

At the very front would be a step down to the drivers area, which was quite spacious and far more technical than the average bus or coach.

In the middle of the bus, on the left hand side, a table and some seats offered an area to sit and eat. Or in this case, sit and cry, which is what the Mother and her son were doing. 

An elderly Chinese man stood by the kitchen, his hand on a walking stick. He’d been offered a seat a few times but wanted to stand. 

The girl in the bright yellow sweater sat alone, her knee’s grazed, the leggings she wore were torn. Her running shoes were blood stained. She had definitely recognised Tim, briefly looking up, then looking away, only to return her stare back at him.

Tim politely waved at the bus’s occupants. Even during a crisis, his awkward smile and beaming positivity added a sense of normality to the situation.

Suddenly, everyone turned their attention to the back doors of the bus, where The Soldier was trying to stop additional people from entering. The hands that clambered around the sides of the bus doorway were not that of monsters, zombies or killer creatures - these were people, who were running for their lives, desperate to get on board.

It was clear that the female Soldier was happy to let these people on, whilst The Soldier who had saved Tim was keen to keep the numbers smaller. 

Tim blinked, watching the situation from a distance, feeling more helpless than ever.

Suddenly, the people over flowed, and an additional five strangers burst their way onto the military bus. The Soldier stumbled aside, the female soldier handling her rifle strictly - she fired two shots outwards onto the street.

The bullets pierced the flesh of the monsters that were chasing these people. She fired a few more bullets, aimed at their head, but missing due to their speed, before she had to swing the backdoors of the bus shut. She locked them securely, by lifting a heavy steel bar upwards. A green light above blinked to red.

The Soldier barged past the additional people and pushed them down onto the cushioned seating. He swore under his breath, frustrated - impatient to get going. The backdoors were now slammed shut, with a total of eleven people on board.

Tim sat back, squashed between a British couple and a woman who was dressed in her pyjamas. She was hysterically crying, her face swollen with emotion. She kept crying about ‘her poor friend, her poor friend’. 

Tim placed his arm around her shoulder. The woman fell into Tim’s chest, where she continued to sob further and harder.

As the military bus began to reverse out of the alley way, around twelve zombies attacked at the bus doors, throwing themselves at the blacked out windows, chasing their own reflection. This caused screams within the bus, startled moments of fear in a moment of uncertain safety.

The bus picked up speed during it’s reverse, driving over bodies - some still alive, some not.

It soon reversed out onto the busy street, chaotically filled with people running, being chased by the animalistic creatures that now populated the city. 

And as it began to drive forwards, to begin it’s journey out of New York, Alice slowly held her hand around the arm of her bright yellow sweater, concealing and hiding the large, bloody bite mark underneath.

***

The story continues in Chapter Three - 'Passengers', available shortly.


End file.
